No One Knew
by Deathly Jester
Summary: No one knew, no one asked. But she overcame, because that's what she does. She over comes. Sakuno x Any Male I hope you like it *Betaed by 14Amy-Chan* No 'real' pairing, whoever you'd like to fit it best. God bless Deathly Jester


No one knew. No one knew when she would lock herself in her room once every year. No one knew she cried for hours, screaming, pleading to anyone that would hear her. She cried until every tear was spent and dried. No one knew of the harm that came her way from those around her.

The evil words that haunted her every waking moment.

_'It's your fault their gone.'_

_'Monster!'_

For years she had tried to convince herself that it was not true, however when the words kept coming back, she accepted it as truth. She learned that it was her fault, and there was nothing she could do about it. She had killed them, it was her. She had dialed the number of her father, she did not know he was the one driving at the time, but she did it. He had answered only to hear her cries- the kids that attended the same school as her were not as kind as they let on to be- when her father heard her distress, he tried to calm her. The last thing she remembered hearing after the 'I love you,' and 'it doesn't matter what they think, you have us', was the blood curdling screams and dead silence.

She had killed them.

Her friends never knew of this, they would never want to be around a murder, ne? She lived under the roof of the only living relative who did not think evil of her. Of course when the time of year came around was when she would go drinking, trying to forget the monster she harbored in her home. She did not always know that was why she went drinking; she thought it was because of stress, a work party even! But she wound up an inch of death; she was once more blamed by them, the real monsters.

Or were they?

Her grandmother said she had forgiven her, that it was not her fault. But she knew... Everything was her fault, every bad thing that happened was always her fault, every time someone lost a stock, or broke an arm, she was blamed, though it was impossible for her to be the cause.

The little scapegoat was at the tender age of thirteen now, many deaths past. The black cat of the family, everyone was told to keep their distance from her, lest they become cursed. Her grandmother recovered from the accident three years ago, but still had the pain that lingered forever.

Eventually she poured her feelings into art. Any form she could get her cursed hands at, her paintings filled with hurt, the sad music that flowed through her oboe and the melodic melody she danced to. Though her talent on the court lacked, her feet always knew what to do when the familiar cords rang through the air, twisting and turning. Leaping and falling to the earth only to rise once more gave her the feeling that nothing was wrong in the world. But when the melody stopped, the evil comments came back to rip into her newfound confidence to shreds.

The loving side notes from her friends could barely bind the wounds built up over the years.

Looking over the city skyline she cried, finding a new location to let her feelings go was not hard, but no one knew. No one bothered to ask why she never talked of her family, why her parents never came to her recitals or art programs. Dead people could not come back, not even for the little girl left at such a tender age.

When she had calmed herself, she looked down. She could not leave this life behind quite yet, she would not give up. She would show them someday she could prove that she was more. But that day could never come if she fell. Being careful she lifted herself from the ledge and walked home.

No one knew that she had lived her whole life to prove them wrong. And when her time finally did come, she did. She showed them. Her life could not be more perfect, of course they had tried to warn her soon-to-be husband that she was a no-good demon but they failed. Now they realized how angelic she was, that no matter what was thrown her way she would overcome it. Because that was what she did, she broke down, but she would been lifted up again, no matter what.

She stuck with her passion of art, and passed it unto her children, their father passed some of his hobbies too, but overall she had had the largest impact on her family. She had earner their respect and was no longer considered a demon by all. Some still warned their children not to go near her, but they still did, and they loved her. She was the perfect aunt, and later, the perfect grandmother.

She had lived an almost perfect life. Sure it had its ups and downs but she made it through. Because that was what she did.

She overcame.

And when her time came, people came to celebrate her life, the lives she had touched, the loving embraces and smiles she gave to all. She died a few days after her late husband; the people thought it fit, that the two would not be without each other too long. But the smiles and tears filled with love were never forgotten, and the generations to come were filled with the tales of love of her, the challenges that she had over come. She would live on with her husband in tales forever, and on the off chance that she was forgotten, her tales had lived for generations of hopeful stories that brought love and warmth to any room she was spoken in.


End file.
